


Ron Weasley and the Days that Never Were

by Kehwie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Ron Weasley-centric, The Golden Trio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kehwie/pseuds/Kehwie
Summary: Ron finds a magical object that sends him on a journey through various alternate realities. Along the way, he learns some important lessons about himself and his family and friends.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley (au), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (background), Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter (au), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ron Weasley (au), Padma Patil/Ron Weasley (au)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, fans of Ron Weasley! (If you're looking for Ron-bashing, you won't find that here.) I hope you enjoy my contribution to the world of Ron-centric fic.
> 
> Confession--this is my first Harry Potter story, and I'm scared and intimidated beyond words. Please let me know what I've done well and what I've gotten wrong, but may I ask that you do so gently on the latter? Thanks! I want to improve, so I do welcome constructive criticism--just of the kind and gracious variety.
> 
> I will note now that this story will end with canon pairings--Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny. Because of the alternate realities Ron is visiting, sometimes it may not seem that way. But that is the endgame.

**PART ONE**

Chapter One 

As stubborn and cantankerous as she was, Ron had kind of figured his Great-Aunt Muriel would outlive all of them. She did live to a ripe old age, but one unseasonably cool night in October, she died quietly in her sleep.

Her huge old house was filled to the brim; she’d practically been what Hermione said Muggles called a hoarder. Ron didn’t look forward to digging through it all.

But he’d never figured out how to say no to his mum. 

“I need your help, Ronnie,” Molly said. “Aunt Muriel accumulated  _ so much _ stuff over the years. And no one’s really sure what all of it is. Some of it might be priceless family heirlooms; it’s important to preserve those. But it’s all jumbled together with just old junk. We won’t know what’s what until we get in there.”

Which was how Ron Weasley found himself helping his mother sort through what seemed to be a couple hundred years’ worth of crap in Aunt Muriel’s attic.

He wasn’t sure what made him pocket the small item he found in a dark, grimy corner, buried underneath various odds and ends that they were able to conclude were useless and could be vanished. Maybe it was just that he didn’t know what the object  _ was _ and didn’t feel comfortable vanishing it. 

But even as he told himself that, he knew there was more to it. Something about the little silver globe drew him. He could’ve just asked his mum if she knew what it was. He  _ should  _ do that. 

He didn’t. 

Instead he took it home with him. And that night, as Hermione worked in the office she’d set up in their home, Ron took out the unknown item and studied it.

Just an ordinary silver ball. What was it that drew him to it so? 

He turned it around in his hands, examining it more closely. Was that a dent? No, more of a notch. He ran his thumb over it. 

The globe had been perfectly smooth other than that almost invisible notch, but once he brushed it a circlet opened up in the top. Ron could now see swirling liquid inside the orb. It looked almost like the inside of a Pensieve. He leaned closer, fascinated.

Since it was so much smaller, he couldn’t put his head in like he would’ve done with a Pensieve. He placed his right eye as close as he could get to the hole filled with the swirling liquid. 

And felt the whole world shift and tumble around him. 

It was the strangest sensation--almost like his sitting room melting away, dissolving around him, then reforming into something entirely new and different. He pulled the silver globe away from his eye and looked around.

He was still on a sofa. But not his sofa. He was in what appeared to be a sitting room. But not his sitting room. Panic began to swell within him. Where was he? What the hell had he done? “Hermione?” he called out weakly.

“Did you say something, dear?” A woman’s voice floated to him from another room. That was definitely  _ not _ Hermione’s voice. What in Merlin’s name was going on here?

“Ron?” Crap, the voice was moving closer. “Is everything all right?” 

And Padma Patil entered the room. 

Ron didn’t think he’d seen her since...bloody hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen her. He didn’t see either of the Patil twins too often these days. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure how he knew it was Padma. The girls were identical, and it was hard enough keeping twins straight when you knew them well; Fred and George had always been proof of that. Ron had never known either Patil girl terribly well. And it wasn’t like Padma was currently decked out in Ravenclaw house colors. But somehow he knew for absolute certain it was her. 

What he didn’t know was where he was or how he’d gotten there or what she was doing there with him. “Wh-where am I?” He tried, he really did, but he didn’t manage to keep the alarm out of his voice. 

Padma frowned at him. “If this is one of your jokes, Ronald Weasley, I’ll have you know that it isn’t funny!” 

“I’m not joking, Padma, I swear. I just...look, I’m really confused right now. Where am I?” 

“You’re at  _ home _ _,_ Ron!” Oh, look. Now he wasn’t the only one panicking. Who even knew a human voice could reach that pitch.

“Okaaaay...this doesn’t look quite right...where’s Hermione?”

“Hermione?!” Now Padma’s expression was a bizarre combination of terror, bafflement, and a wee bit of ire. “Why would Hermione be here? It’s the school year! She’s at Hogwarts!”

“With Rose and Hugo? Did something happen?”

“Who? Ron, you aren’t making any  _ sense!” _

“Okay, back up. Why’s Hermione at Hogwarts?” 

The ire melted, leaving only confusion and fear. “Because she  _ teaches _ there! She has for years! Panju is in trouble with her almost daily!” 

“Panju?”

“That’s it, we need St. Mungo’s.” Padma strode toward the fireplace. As she waited for the floo call to connect, she asked over her shoulder. “Do you remember hitting your head or anything like that? Did you get hit by some sort of spell?”

“You think maybe one of George’s jokes went wrong?” 

“George’s jokes? Ohhhh, that might do it. Did you see him today?”

Ron stared at her. “I see him every day?”

Padma laughed. “Since when?”

“Uh...since I left the Aurors and went to work with him at the shop?” 

“Work with him at the shop? Aurors? Ron, you’re scaring me!” Padma turned back to the floo as a head appeared. 

The head in the fireplace was an older wizard, and St. Mungo’s emblem was clearly visible on what showed of his collar. “Yes?” 

“Please, you have to help my husband! Something is terribly wrong with him!”

_ Husband? _ The world spun again, and this time, Ron felt himself plunge into blackness. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron's previous life grows murkier as he finds himself in a world where he's married to Padma Patil--and other things are different as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously this particular reality was inspired by the one in The Cursed Child. However it is not the same reality, and the differences will become apparent.

Chapter Two

When Ron came to, he was on the same couch in the same room, but now he was horizontal. The first thing he saw was Padma’s anxious face. The second thing was the Healer from the floo, now present in the room and apparently running diagnostic spells. “Glad to have you back with us, Mr. Weasley. Would you like to tell me about what you’re experiencing?”

“Uh, I guess?” Honestly, Ron wasn’t terribly sure anyone would believe him. 

“Excellent! Please provide as much detail as you are able. We never know what bit of information might be vital.”

_ Sounds like what we told witnesses back when I was with the Aurors,  _ Ron thought. Aloud he said,” Um, I’m not really sure how much I know. I found myself sitting on this couch. I don’t recognize this room. I don’t know how I got here. I don’t even know why Padma is here, although I’m glad there was a friendly face if I had to get stranded somewhere unknown. But, ah, I’d kind of like to go home now.”

Padma made a sound like a choked sob. The Healer frowned. “Yes, I see. This is quite serious indeed. Can you tell me about your day before you ‘found yourself on this couch?’”

Ron thought back. “Uh, let’s see. I was helping Mum clear out Aunt Muriel’s place. She’s built up a lot of junk over the years. We were trying to sort through it all.”

The Healer cut his eyes to Padma, who looked thoroughly confused. “Ron, you were at work all day with my father. Just like every day. We haven’t seen Aunt Muriel in ages--frankly, everyone prefers that way.”

Well, at least that was consistent. “She’s not dead?”

Padma blinked. “No, not that I know of. I’m sure Molly would’ve told us if she died.” 

Trying to get his bearings and give himself time to think, Ron flicked his gaze around the room, hoping desperately to find  _ some _ sort of clue to all this. Instead his eyes found a huge portrait on the wall. A wedding portrait.

In which Padma was the lovely, radiant bride, and he, Ron Weasley, was the beaming groom. 

What the _ actual _ bloody hell? 

Ron closed his eyes, flummoxed. He couldn’t even pretend to know what was going on anymore. “Um, okay, then I really don’t know what’s happened to me.”

“My diagnostic scans are showing signs of some powerful magic,” the Healer said. “I think your wife might’ve been right about some sort of spell hitting you. Apparently it created a backstory for your brain even though it robbed you of many memories. So go on please--you were at your aunt’s house?” 

“Uh, yeah. Mum and I were sorting through all the junk there. Most of it was worthless, and we could just vanish it, but Mum wanted to make sure we kept the important stuff. It was hot and stuffy--I got all sweaty.”

“Good!” the Healer said encouragingly. “That might be important. Perhaps you actually  _ were _ somewhere hot and stuffy when this spell hit you--your mind may have created a scenario to explain it.” 

“And then--” Ron scrunched up his face. “It gets fuzzy. I think I found something interesting, but I can’t really remember what it was. But I put it in my pocket.” He checked his pocket. Nothing. “It’s not there now though. And then I went home. Only--not here.” 

“Okay.” The Healer nodded, still encouraging. “Where then? Where was home?”

“Ah--this is really awkward--but, uh, it was a smaller, less fancy place. And I was, um, married to Hermione Granger. We had two kids. Rose and Hugo. Hermione was working in a different room. The kids were at Hogwarts. I sat on the couch in that living room. Then I...ended up here.” 

Padma fell apart completely and swept out of the room. And somehow Ron knew, without knowing  _ how _ he knew, that the tears were as much anger as heartbreak. Padma cried when she was angry. And she hated it. 

But why did he know that? 

“I see.” The Healer sat back, looking thoughtful. Tactfully he ignored the sounds of plates smashing and jagged sobbing coming from the kitchen. “This is indeed some potent magic, Mr. Weasley. I think we might have to take you to St. Mungo’s for some better diagnostics.” 

Padma returned a few minutes later, while the Healer was still conferencing via floo with others at St. Mungo’s. Her eyes were dry now, but still red and still shooting angry sparks. Ron sighed, sat up, and held out a hand to her. 

He didn’t know how he got here, and he didn’t really even know what was real and what wasn’t, but he did know that he hadn’t meant to hurt her. 

Stiffly Padma sat next to him. Ron pulled her to him, wrapping an arm around her. “Listen. I don’t have the first clue what’s going on. But I’m sorry. You know I’d never hurt you on purpose.” No matter what their relationship was or wasn’t, Ron was certain of that. He’d never deliberately hurt her or anyone who hadn’t hurt him first.

She sagged against him. “I know. I do know. I’m sorry too. It’s just all so scary, Ron, you not remembering that we’re married or even our own child! And thinking you were married to  _ Granger _ ?” 

“You said she teaches at Hogwarts?”

“Yes. Has for years. I know...I know you and she have always been close. It never bothered me too much before now. But hearing you say you were  _ married  _ to her--when you didn't even remember being married to me or our child…”

“That would cut, yeah.” Ron looked at the wedding portrait again. “We look happy.”

“We were. And we  _ are _ . Oh, Ron, we’ve been together so long now--ever since the Yule Ball back in fourth year. I can’t imagine what would just make you forget it all.”

“Well, why don’t we find out?” The Healer stepped back over to them. “We’re ready to transport you now, Mr. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley, I assume you’ll be right behind us?” 

“Oh yes, absolutely,” Padma said firmly. “I want my husband back.” 

***

So Ron found himself on a hospital bed, Healers bustling in and out. Padma sat next to him, anxiously chewing her thumbnail. Funny--he’d never taken her for the nervous type. 

Not that he’d ever really known her all that well.

Or...he didn’t think he had. He didn’t remember knowing her well. But there was a wedding portrait in a living room he didn’t recognize that said otherwise. Her presence here by his side said otherwise.

The whole thing made Ron’s head hurt. Maybe he really had hit his head. Maybe that explained all this.

It was just...he remembered some things  _ so clearly _ . Padma  _ had _ been his date at the Yule Ball. He knew that. He could still picture her in her elegant turquoise dress robes. She’d been extraordinarily beautiful. 

But he couldn’t for the life of him remember anything concrete about the night itself. He couldn’t remember dancing with her or really even talking with her. 

And he didn’t know anything about their dating relationship or their marriage. How had they fallen in love? 

And Padma had mentioned he worked with her father. What did her father do? What did  _ Ron _ do? 

It was all so baffling. The Healers had no explanation for it, and Ron didn’t either. “Padma?” 

‘Yes?” 

“Could you...could you get Harry for me?” 

Her eyes widened almost comically. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? Hang on, I’ll owl him now. I’m sure he’ll be here in just a mo.” 

Harry did indeed arrive rather quickly. “Ron! What on earth happened to you?” 

“That seems to be the million pound question, mate,” Ron said. “Padma, I don’t mean to kick you out, but…” 

“No worries, darling, I’ll leave you two to it. I’ll go talk to the Healers, see what progress they’re making.” Padma bent forward to kiss the corner of his mouth before sweeping from the room. Ron watched her go. 

  
  
“So what’s going on here?” Harry asked, settling in the chair Padma had vacated.

“Harry, am I really married to Padma Patil?” Short of polyjuice potion, Ron trusted Harry to always tell him the truth.

For a long moment, Harry just stared at him in mute disbelief. Finally he spoke. “Uh, yeah. Of course you are. Why would you even  _ ask _ such a question?”

“Something’s wrong with me. I can’t remember things properly. I don’t remember marrying Padma. I don’t even remember  _dating_ Padma. I didn’t recognize what is apparently my own living room. And no one knows why.”

“Oh. Merlin.” Harry sat back against the chair, his expression stunned. “Padma’s owl said that you were in hospital with some sort of apparent trauma, but it wasn’t all that detailed. You don’t remember  _ anything _ ?” 

“It’s all muddled in my brain,” Ron admitted. “I thought...I thought at first I remembered being married to Hermione, but now I don’t even know why I thought that. It sounds bizarre.”

Harry laughed. “No, I don’t know why either. That  _is_ just bizarre.”

“Fill in the holes, Harry,  _ please _ _._ I don’t like not knowing.”

“I don’t know, mate. Maybe we should just let the Healers do their thing. I’m sure they’ll figure things out and then you’ll get your memories back.”

“I don’t want to wait. Please?” 

Harry sighed heavily. “All right, all right. What exactly do you want to know? I mean, do I have to recreate your life story? I’m guessing no, since Padma said you asked for me, and you do remember Hermione.”

“Start with the Yule Ball,” Ron said.

“Okay. I guess that’s as good a place as any. Um, so Hermione showed up at the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum. You were  _ f urious _ . I honestly thought you were going to sit and sulk the whole night. I’d gone to the trouble to get Parvati and Padma to be our dates, so I was a bit embarrassed that you were shaping up to be a pretty rotten escort for poor Padma. I didn’t enjoy dancing with Parvati much--as one of the champions, I was too much in the spotlight and felt pretty self-conscious; you know, typical teenager. But Padma kept begging you to dance with her, and finally you kind of sighed and muttered under your breath and gave in.” Harry shrugged. “Something kind of shifted in your mood after that. You two danced and talked and ended up getting on pretty well. Hermione and Krum came over, and we all had a good night just hanging out.” 

“Padma said we were together after that?” 

Harry laughed softly. “How like her to romanticize that way. Not exactly together, not right away at least. But yeah, that’s where it started for you two. Certainly neither of you ever dated anyone else.” He smiled. “Whereas I tried with Parvati for a while. Didn’t work. Tried with Cho. Didn’t work. Took me a bit to settle down with Ginny. Took  _ her _ a bit to settle down with me. And poor Hermione. She dated Krum for a while, even visited his family in Bulgaria, but the distance got to be too much. Then she dated Terry Boot from Ravenclaw--Padma introduced them. I think they broke up shortly before the end of sixth year. Which was just as well--we started the horcrux hunt soon after.”

“Did I...abandon you guys again?” Ron could barely force the words out.

“You  _ would _ remember that,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “Yes, you  _ temporarily _ left us after you and I got into a fight. That damn locket was affecting us both badly. You were worried about your family, and you were worried about Padma and her family. I provoked you, we fought, I told you to go, you did. And then you came back, just like we knew you would. Dumbledore had made sure you’d have a way.”

“I remember...destroying the locket?”

“Yes. You saved my life, and you destroyed that horcrux.”

“What did it say? The locket? Before I destroyed it?”

Harry looked uncomfortable. “Um, it said that you were the least loved son, and that your mum had always wanted a girl and was disappointed with you, that you’d never measure up to your brothers, and that I was a better and more-loved son than you were. And then it said you were stupid and useless and someone as beautiful and intelligent as Padma would never put up with you for long. It was only a matter of time before she found someone, uh, ‘more worthy’ was the term it used, I believe.” He shook his head. “Hogwash. Padma absolutely adores you.”

“Did I...ever finish Hogwarts?”

“No. Hermione did, of course--went back a year later, after Voldemort had been defeated. You and I had both had enough of school. Kingsley offered all three of us the chance to be Aurors. I was the only one to take him up on it. Padma’s father offered you a position in his company.” Harry smiled. “Turns out your genius at strategy isn’t just reserved for chess. You excel at business strategy as well. He’s been  _ very _ happy with your contributions over the years.” 

“We only have one child? Panju? Somehow being a Weasley with only one kid seems...odd.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately, Padma’s had a few miscarriages. The last one took such a toll on you both that you decided Panju would stay an only child. He’s a great kid though--really clever, the best of you both, and funny as hell.” 

“Padma said Hermione is a teacher at Hogwarts? Is she...is she married?”

“No. After graduating with almost a record number of NEWTs, Hermione went to work for the ministry. She dated a muggle man her parents knew. It ended badly. Then she dated a coworker at the ministry. That ended even worse. I think when the Hogwarts position opened up, she was just looking for a temporary sanctuary, to heal a bit, you know? But she discovered that she loved teaching, loved not only sharing her knowledge but inspiring others to  _ want _ to learn and to enjoy it. It’s been wonderful for her.”

“Did I kill the two tossers who hurt her? Or at least seriously maim?”

Harry laughed. “No, she talked you out of it, thankfully--I’d hate to have to arrest my own best mate and brother-in-law!” He leaned forward a bit to confide in a lower tone, “However, one or two of the  _ nastier _ pranks from Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes did find its way to both of them.” 

“Well, that’s something at least. Hey, who helps George run the shop?”

“Lee Jordan. Angelina. And funnily enough, Percy helps out from time to time. He and George have gotten closer since Fred’s death. Percy has to work around his Ministry hours, but he enjoys it.” 

“Huh. How about that.” 

“Does that help any?” Harry looked at him anxiously. “Anything coming back?”

“No. It still feels like listening to a story of someone else’s life, not my own. But I do appreciate it, Harry. Really.” He paused, then plunged ahead. “Hey, weird question--do Hermione and Padma get along?”

“Eh, well enough, I’d say. They’re not best friends or anything. But Padma is a smart woman—she always knew Hermione and I were kind of a package deal if she was going to be with you. She  _ has _ had some times where I think your closeness with another woman has bothered her--the three of us running off together for a year was especially hard for her, for example--but she handles it pretty well overall.” 

“Hmm.” It was nice to hear that he and Hermione had remained close, just as he and Harry had, and that Padma normally understood and accepted their bond. The three of them kind of  _ were  _ a package deal. Ron thought back to Padma’s angry reaction to his confused belief that Hermione was his wife. No woman wanted to be forgotten by her husband, or have him mistakenly think he was married to someone else. And if that “other woman” were already a bit of a sore spot? Yeah, her reaction made sense. He didn’t think he’d like it much if his wife suddenly thought she was married to...Viktor Krum, for example.

Wait, what? Why would Krum be a sore spot for him? Ron frowned, trying to remember. Nothing came to mind, and his frustration increased. What was  _ wrong _ with him? What could possibly explain his missing memories, faulty memories, and general overall fuzzy-headedness? 

It was all too much. Ron gave up trying to figure it all out. He fell asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering why Ron is so quick to accept this new world and blames his own memory so much, never fear--an explanation will come. Just not until later. You get to figure it out as you go, just like he does. :)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The Healers were unable to come up with any explanations for Ron’s sudden memory trouble. Finally they threw up their hands and sent him home. Ron spent the next few days exploring his home with Padma, looking at photos of their life together and of their son Panju. He visited his family; they at least were much as he remembered, except for George and Percy being so close. Watching the two of them laugh and banter was a bit surreal. Still, it was nice. Percy had confessed once (at least Ron thought he had) that he’d always felt somewhat the odd one out. Now he wasn’t--he was George’s best friend. 

Padma’s parents came to visit. And Ron found himself getting on quite naturally with his father-in-law Rahul. Rahul updated him on some recent business developments, and without even knowing how he knew or why he was so certain, Ron made recommendations. Rahul looked happy. “Thanks, Ron. You know I always trust your judgment.” 

Ron knew no such thing. 

Parvati came by as well. She and Padma spent time in the kitchen, huddled over cups of tea and talking in low tones. But then she joined Ron in the sitting room. “So. Am I going to have to hex your bits off for hurting my sister?”

Ron looked at her sadly. “I don’t mean to hurt her. I may not know anything else, but I know that. I don’t know why I can’t remember.” He hesitated, then added. “But I get it. I wouldn’t hex Harry if he hurt Ginny--probably just go straight to socking him in the jaw--but I do get it.” 

Parvati laughed. “Luckily for you, Padma’s quite fond of your bits, so I’ll leave them intact for now. And I doubt I’d make much impact punching you in the jaw, so you’re safe there too. She is pretty miserable right now though.” 

“I don’t blame her. And I really am sorry that I’m the cause of her unhappiness.”

“I know. Truthfully, Ron, you’ve always been good to her. She’s been annoyingly, soppily happy until now.” 

“That’s...good to know.” Ron wondered how he made Padma “annoyingly, soppily happy.” He had a hard time picturing anyone being that crazy about  _ him . _

But Harry had said that Padma adored him…

Ron wished he could remember being loved like that. 

*****

“Ron, I hate to leave you like this! What if something happens?”

“Nothing will happen, I promise. In spite of all the holes in my memory, I  _ do _ know how to function as a proper adult. I’ll be fine. And honestly...I think it will do you good to go to work. You need a break from worrying about me.”

“Going to work isn’t going to keep me from worrying,” Padma said. “But all right. If you’re sure. You’ll stay here?”

“Yes. I will stay here. Who knows? Maybe something will shake loose in my dumb old brain, and I’ll remember everything.”

“Don’t insult my husband’s brain like that. I happen to be quite fond of that brain of yours.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “All right, I’m leaving. Enjoy your day alone.”

“Padma?”

She paused at the fireplace, floo powder in hand. “Yes?”

“That...means something, doesn’t it? To us? You kissing the corner of my mouth like that. That means something?”

Her face lit up. “Yes, darling, it does. It’s kind of our thing. I do that when I’m kissing you goodbye. You said once...you said that if I kissed you ‘for real,’ neither of us would ever get anywhere. So when one of us really does have to go somewhere and there’s no time for a thorough snog--or more--I do that. Oh, maybe you  _ are  _ starting to remember!” She flew at him, and he caught her. He  _ hadn’t _ remembered anything, just reasoned it out, but it felt good to make her so happy and hopeful.  _ Really _ good.

Padma kissed him again, then left. Ron sank down on the sofa and tried to think what to do. 

Looking at old photos hadn’t done anything for him. He’d spoken with all of his family and all of Padma’s family, and that hadn’t done anything for him. He’d talked to Harry. That hadn’t helped much either. 

Maybe he should try to talk to Hermione.

Ron had told Padma he’d stay here, and he hated to break his word. But he  _ needed _ answers. And if he could somehow visit Hermione at Hogwarts, maybe he could see Panju as well. Surely his  _ son _ would shake something loose in his screwed-up brain.

He found parchment and scrawled out a quick note to Hermione to send by owl. He hoped she’d answer quickly.

She did. 

_ Dear Ron, _

_ My goodness! What a strange situation. It must be some kind of rare, powerful magic. But yes, I’m happy to meet with you. I don’t have classes this afternoon. Why don’t we meet at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade? 1:00 PM. I look forward to seeing you, and I hope I can be helpful! _

_ Love, Hermione _

Ron arrived early and got them a table. He sat nursing a butterbeer and hoped he’d know how to apparate back home once he and Hermione had finished. He still wasn’t a hundred percent sure where he and Padma lived. 

“Ron!” 

He stood and turned. Hermione hugged him fiercely and kissed his cheek. “You look well for someone with a spotty memory,” she teased.

He chuckled as they sat. “Thanks. You’re looking well too.” 

She did. Hermione looked relaxed and happy. Ron had pictured her looking tired and stressed, but even as he had the thought he didn’t know _ why  _ he’d thought it, and it flitted away as quickly as it came.

“So tell me about what’s happened,” Hermione said. 

“I don’t even  _ know _ _._ I just found myself suddenly sitting on a sofa I didn’t recognize in a room I didn’t recognize. I haven’t the faintest clue as to how I got there. Padma came in the room, and I knew it was her, but I didn’t know she was my wife.” Ron felt his face grow warm. “I, uh, actually thought I was married to you.”

Hermione laughed. “Well, my fifteen-year-old self will be thrilled anyway.”

“What, really?”

“Oh, sure. I had quite the crush on you fourth year. Spent ages doodling ‘Hermione Weasley’ in my journal. I’d actually been hoping you’d ask me to the Yule Ball, but Viktor did instead, and you went with Padma, and everything worked out the way it was supposed to do I think.” 

“Huh. I never would’ve guessed you could like me that way. Harry agreed it sounded bizarre when I told him that part.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry never knew. He barely knew anything beyond his own nose in those days. And I don’t know why it would be ‘bizarre;’ I think if you and Padma hadn’t fallen so thoroughly for each other, we might’ve made a good go of it.”

“Yeah, I think so. But I always pictured you crushing on Harry back then.”

“Now that  _ is _ bizarre. But enough of the what-ifs. Let’s try to figure out what might have done this. You didn’t recognize your house, you knew Padma but not that she was your wife, and you thought you were married to me. Does that cover it?”

“Pretty much. Although as soon as I thought I was married to you, I couldn’t understand why I thought that. And I kind of remembered resenting Krum at one point, but couldn’t figure out why I’d do that either. And I remember some things from Hogwarts--like the horcrux hunt, and abandoning you and Harry--but everything’s just, I don’t know,  _ fuzzy _ and hard to piece together.”

“And the Healers couldn’t tell you anything?”

“The best they could come up with was that some sort of magic was involved. They really didn’t like releasing me when they didn’t know anything, but Padma insisted that I come home.” 

“And being home didn’t trigger anything.”

“Nothing. Hermione, I don’t even remember my own kid! What kind of dad forgets his kid? Hell, for that matter, what kind of husband forgets his wife?” Ron shook his head. “Harry says Padma is mad about me, but for the life of me I can’t see why right now.”

“Oh, Ron.” Hermione leaned forward and touched his arm. “It isn’t like you’ve forgotten on purpose. Trust me, you are a wonderful husband and father, and Padma and Panju are very lucky to have you.” She smiled. “Panju is delightful--clever, but cheeky. He gets excellent marks but racks up quite a few detentions along the way as well. He’s such the perfect combination of you two.”

Ron returned the smile half-heartedly. As pleased as he was to hear such good things about his son, it just drove the knife in further that he couldn’t remember such a fantastic kid. 

“Listen, let me do some research, okay? I’ll check in the library and see if I can find any spells that might do this.” 

“Typical Hermione. Still running off to the library at the first sign of trouble.”

“Hey, it’s been plenty useful over the years and you know it, Ron Weasley!”

“I do know it, actually. Thanks, Hermione.” Ron hesitated, then asked sheepishly. “Uh, do you think you could help me get back home? I-I don’t...”

“You don’t remember where it is so you can’t apparate there,” Hermione said. Her tone was matter-of-fact. “Of course I can help. I’ve been there loads of times, so we’ll just side-along, yeah?”

“Thanks,” Ron said again, grateful beyond words. 

“Absolutely no problem at all. Ready?” Hermione took his hand and turned. 

They arrived in the sitting room. “Can I get you something to drink or anything?” Ron asked. 

“No, thank you. I’d better get back. I have lots of grading to do, plus lesson planning, and I want to get started researching this right away.” She hugged him again. “I’ll be in touch, okay? You take care of yourself, Ron.” 

“You too.” 

After she was gone, Ron wandered into the kitchen. Maybe he could cook something and have it ready when Padma got home. He started rummaging through cupboards, trying to figure out where everything was stored. He found a drawer filled with takeaway menus. Oh, excellent, that was much easier. Spicy shrimp curry to the rescue. He looked around for the fellytone, hoping he still knew how to use one. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, to close out the Ron/Padma universe. He's moving on next chapter.

Chapter Four

Ron returned to work a few days later, not seeing any reason why he shouldn’t. Rahul stayed close at hand to give him cues but overall, it all seemed to come fairly naturally. “I’m actually  _ good _ at this,” he said in wonder.

Rahul laughed. “Yes, son, you are. Quite good. I am most glad Padma married you and that you came to work for me instead of joining the Aurors.”

In that moment, Ron couldn’t think of a single reason why he would have ever  _ wanted _ to join the Aurors. Sure, it sounded cool when you were a kid, but this seemed far more suited to his skills. Somehow he just intuitively knew this stuff. Ron Weasley, business guru. Who would have thought it? 

He arrived at home that night, thrilled with how the day had gone. He wasn’t useless! He wasn’t stupid! He wasn’t just the tagalong sidekick to Harry and Hermione, muddling through life while they did great things. He could be successful in his own right. 

It was a heady realization. Ron felt almost drunk with it. He greeted Padma joyfully upon arriving at home. The strain that had been around her eyes for the past week and a half lifted a little, and she beamed at him. “You seem more like your old self.” 

“Apparently I should’ve returned to work sooner.” 

Padma laughed softly. “I should’ve known it would be your  _ job _ that brought you back to yourself. Of course it wouldn’t be  _ me _ .” 

Ron felt terrible. “Oh, shit, Padma, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”

She laughed harder. “Oh, Ron, you big numpty, stop it. Of course I know you didn’t mean it like that. Truly I’m thrilled to see you so happy.” She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him.

It was the first time she’d  _ really _ kissed him since all this had started. Ron hadn’t felt comfortable being too affectionate when he couldn’t remember her properly. But now, as her lips pressed against his, something shifted within him. He felt himself respond, his arms going around her, his hands moving up her back. He returned her kiss. Padma hummed happily. 

Finally they broke apart, both breathing heavily. “I…can see why I said we’d never get anywhere if we snogged properly,” Ron said, dazed.  


Padma giggled. “It can be a problem. But it’s such a  _ nice _ problem to have.”

“No argument from me, love.” 

She gazed at him, her eyes shining. “You called me love.”

Ron felt his face heating up. “Sorry? Do I not do that?”

“No, you do. You always have. But you haven’t since...since your memory loss. Oh, Ron, it’s so  _ good _ to hear you say that again.” She grinned happily. “You’re right; we should’ve sent you back to work  _ much _ sooner!” 

He returned her smile, feeling relief wash over him. He didn’t quite remember everything yet, but bits and pieces were coming back more quickly now, and he had no doubt that he’d be his old self again very soon. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's Friday, you get two chapters in this update! :)

**PART TWO**

Chapter Five 

Ron was _certain_ he’d left a bag of crisps somewhere in the sitting room. But his attempt to accio it had failed, so he found himself rummaging around near the sofa while muttering under his breath. Honestly, he loved his wife, but Padma had a habit of tossing his crisps out when he wasn’t looking. “They’re so unhealthy!” she’d claim. 

Well, of course they were. No one ate crisps for the health benefits! But Ron _liked_ them. And he was a bloody full-grown adult--he could eat crisps if he wanted! 

He was actually on the floor, checking beneath the sofa, when a silver object caught his eye. Curious, he reached for it. 

Holy buggering hell. It was the orb from Aunt Muriel’s. Ron stared at it, thunderstruck. Once he started remembering his life with Padma, he’d forgotten all about the orb. He figured the whole bit at Aunt Muriel’s was some sort of weird magic-induced delusion. They hadn’t learned what caused it yet, but he trusted that Hermione would if given enough time. 

Maybe he could show this to Hermione, help her with her research. He ran his thumb over the smooth surface, and it caught on something. 

An opening appeared in the little globe, and Ron leaned forward to examine it more closely. Weird, that almost looked like the liquid inside of a Pensieve…

The world around him crumbled to dust, then reformed. And Ron once again found himself somewhere else entirely. 

Ugh, what a dingy place this was. Where in the world could he be? “Padma?” he called out hopefully.

No answer. He tried again. “Hermione?” 

Nothing. 

He got up to explore. It seemed to be a small flat--a _tiny_ flat, really. Not terribly clean or well-kept. A kitchenette that looked like it hadn’t been used since Thatcher was Prime Minister. A bedroom the size of a closet. A loo that probably predated Churchill. Where the _hell_ was he? 

A loud blaring sound reverberated through the room. Ron looked around. A phone! Maybe someone on the other end could help him. He grabbed it. Now how had Hermione said to answer it? “Hello, this is Ron Weasley.” 

“Ron, where the hell are you?”

It was so similar to his own thoughts that Ron almost laughed. But he was too grateful for that. “Harry! Thank Merlin! I don’t actually _know_ where I am or how I got here.”

There was a long pause, then Harry spoke again. “Okay, that sounds bad. But is anyone actually holding you hostage?”

“Uh, no, it doesn’t look like anyone else is here.”

“Well, then, apparate the hell out of there! Honestly, Ron!” 

Oh. Right. 

Ron focused hard on the house he remembered sharing with Padma. Nothing happened. He still had vague recollections of a home with Hermione, so he tried concentrating on that next. Still nothing. Finally, not sure what else to do, he aimed for the Burrow.

That worked. He made it straight to his mum’s kitchen. “Ronnie!” She exclaimed in surprise. “It’s wonderful to see you, but we weren’t expecting you. Didn’t you have plans with Harry and Hermione today?” 

“Did I?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten! Ronald Weasley, I know it’s been difficult for you, their relationship, but you’ve never let it interfere with your friendship!”

“Their...relationship?”

Molly rolled her eyes. “You’re not cute, Ronnie. The time for denial is long since past. Now get yourself to Grimmauld Place and stop this ridiculous behavior.”

Well, at least Grimmauld Place was somewhere Ron was familiar with. Surely he could make it _there_ with no trouble. He disapparated. 

“There you are!” Hermione’s voice was warm and bright as she greeted him. Harry was still scowling. 

“Hi.” Ron smiled weakly. “Uh...what’s going on?”

Harry’s scowl deepened. “What’s going _on_ _?_ Ron, what is _wrong_ with you?” 

Ron collapsed on a nearby chair. “I wish I knew, Harry. I keep disappearing from familiar places and reappearing I-don’t-have-a-clue where. And my brain’s all muddled, and I can’t figure out what’s real and what isn’t. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that I’m _not_ married to Hermione?”

Now Harry just stared at him, his scowl replaced by a mixture of disbelief and worry. “Uh, no, mate, I’m sorry, you’re not.”

“Right. And I’m not married to Padma?”

_“ Padma Patil?”_ Hermione’s shocked tone was all the answer Ron needed.

“Do I work with George at the shop?” 

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. “Ron...George lost the shop years ago. He couldn’t keep it up after Fred died.”

Ron felt his stomach drop. “We _let_ him lose it? I didn’t try to help him? Percy didn’t try to help him?”

Tears filled Hermione’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Ron. You were...well, you weren’t really in condition to help him at the time. And Percy? He went back to the Ministry.”

“So what does George do?” 

Harry rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Mostly drinks too much, sorry to say. He has a rather grungy, horrid flat. You all do take turns making sure the rent gets paid so he doesn’t get evicted.” 

“Maybe that’s where I was,” Ron mused. “I didn’t recognize it--I don’t know much of anything right now--but it was pretty rough.”

“Describe it,” Hermione said.

Ron did, and she sighed deeply. “Ron, that was _your_ flat. George’s is actually worse.”

Ugh. 

“So you’ve lost your memories somehow? Is that it?” Hermione now had a businesslike tone. She, as ever, was ready to tackle the problem head-on.

“Yeah, more or less. It’s almost like...it’ll sound mental, but it’s almost like different lifetimes are getting confused in my head. First I had this nutty idea that I was married to you. We had two kids. I helped out George in the shop. You were Minister of Magic. But then I was dumped from our sitting room into a different one. I was married to Padma. I worked for her dad. You taught at Hogwarts. Um, Harry was married to Ginny both of those times. And honestly, I don’t know _where_ those kinds of delusions would come from. I really don’t. I can tell you two are together, and Mum said something about it when I stopped by the Burrow. And, well...I always knew that was how it would go. That makes _sense_. And it makes sense I would live in a crap flat and be doing...well, whatever the hell it is I do. But I can’t remember any of it.”

“Ronald.” Hermione sat in the chair next to him. “I’m going to guess that you don’t recall this conversation, given what you’ve just told us. So I’m going to say again what I told you when you came back to us during the horcrux hunt--”

“Oh, bloody _hell,_ ” Ron burst out. “I left you _again_?” 

She laughed a little at that. “You _would_ remember that, you great oaf. And no, not again--only the once. And Voldemort used that wretched locket to tell you some really wretched lies. But I told you the truth that day, and I’ll tell you again. My falling in love with Harry had absolutely _nothing_ to do with your worthiness or lack thereof. I happen to think you are a wonderful human being--loyal, brave, funny, caring, generous, and smart. No, not in the same way I am, but Ron--you’re _brilliant_ _._ You’ve done some incredible work for the Aurors, planning out their missions.” 

“I’m an Auror?”

“Of course you’re an Auror! You’re an amazing Auror!” 

Guilt washed over him. Maybe if he weren’t an Auror, George would still have the shop. 

Even when he got himself a noble, prestigious career, even when he was successful at it, he managed to screw things up. 

Yeah, this sounded like the real world all right. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, Ron just staring at the floor. But finally, figuring he’d wallowed enough, he started to look up and noticed something strange. “Are those...canary scars?” 

Hermione made a choked sound. Harry laughed outright. “You remember the canaries?” 

“I remember...something about canaries. But it must be from one of my delusions. How I remember it _can’t_ be right. Hermione wouldn’t care if I dated Lavender.” 

“Oh, I cared very much,” Hermione said. “She was using you, and I didn’t like it.” 

“She was...using _me_?”

“You’d become the big Quidditch hero. You made her look good. She didn’t care about you as a person, didn’t even recognize all the things that make you special. She was just stroking her own ego. And you were letting her do it! That made me angry. You deserve better.” 

Something eased in Ron’s stomach. Maybe Hermione didn’t love him the way he’d always wanted--really, why would she?--but she _did_ love him. He smiled. 

A thought occurred to him. “Mum said we had plans today? Should we be getting to them?”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. “Well, actually, mate, our plans were to catch a show in Muggle London. It’s too late now. Some other time, yeah?”

The guilt was back. “Merlin, Harry, I’m sorry.”

“No worries. Obviously whatever is going on with you is far more important.” 

“How can we help you fill in the gaps, Ron?” Hermione asked. 

“I don’t know. Everything’s so jumbled...I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.” 

“Well, toss out a few things and we’ll tell you,” Harry said.

“Um...did you and I go to the Yule Ball with the Patil twins fourth year, Harry?”

Harry stared at him. “Uh...no.”

Ron rubbed his forehead. “Okay...maybe start there then?”

“That probably _is_ when things started to change for us,” Hermione said. “We had pretty normal, uncomplicated childhood friendships before the Yule Ball. Well, as uncomplicated as it can be when there’s magic and dark wizards involved.” She chuckled. “Harry, of course, had to have a date and was expected to start the dancing since he was one of the champions. He liked Cho Chang, but she was with Cedric Diggory, so he decided everything would be easier if he just went with a friend. You agreed. So you and I went together, and Harry went with Ginny.” 

“Ginny?”

“Yes. Poor Ginny. You remember how much of a crush she had on Harry. She was _ecstatic_ that he’d asked her. Even though he tried to make it clear it was as a friend.”

“At one point, we ended up switching partners,” Harry said. “I danced with Hermione, and you danced with Ginny. I didn’t ever have a good way to explain to her that you and I probably felt about the same dancing with her--she was like my little sister. I adored her, but in a very ‘big brother’ kind of way.” 

“I...remember her dating a fair amount at Hogwarts. Did she not?”

“She did. Unfortunately, I think on some level she was hoping it would catch my attention--you know, make me realize that she was beautiful and desirable. It never really sank in that I wasn’t interested in her that way until after the war.” Harry grimaced. “When Hermione and I finally announced we were together, Ginny wasn’t just hurt--she was _furious_ _._ I swear I never led her on. But she’d built up this fantasy in her mind that we’d be a couple one day. She...got a bit spiteful.”

“That actually sounds like Gin,” Ron said. “I take it she didn’t just hex you?” 

“No. She decided to pursue a relationship with Malfoy.”

_“ Malfoy?_ Really?” 

“Yep. It actually suited them both. Malfoy was trying to salvage his family name after the war, so hooking up with someone from a family of war heroes played well to that--oh, look, I’ve seen the error of my ways, I’m reformed now, et cetera, et cetera. And Ginny’s a Pureblood, so he didn’t actually have to relinquish any of his prejudices. For Ginny, it was just spite--choose someone she knew I hated. But oddly enough, it worked out. Somewhere along the way, they fell in love, and now they’re married and have three children. They’re quite happy, and most of us have adjusted to seeing Malfoy at family dinners.” 

As distasteful as he found the thought, Ron could see it playing out like that. It did sound like something both Ginny and Malfoy would do. And how funny that they’d ended up actually in love and happy. 

“So you and Hermione...didn’t get together straight away after the Yule Ball?”

“Oh, goodness, no,” Hermione said. “Before the Ball, I’m not sure you _or_ Harry had really grasped the fact that I was a girl. The Ball did drive that home for you both. But...upturning long friendships like that isn’t to be done lightly. Harry and I were...quite reticent to make any drastic changes to our relationship.”

“You really didn’t get together until after the war?”

“We didn’t _tell_ anyone other than you we were together until after the war,” Hermione corrected. “And I’m not even sure I can tell you when exactly we became ‘official.’ We’d been drifting together for ages.” 

“And I...dated Lavender sixth year? How did that come about?”

Hermione sighed heavily. “Sixth year was something of a disaster. Harry and I _were_ moving toward something, and I think you knew it. And, well...I know you’ve always been insecure, and you were feeling left out. I invited you to come to Slughorn’s Christmas party. Harry and I were going, and I wanted you to be included, to know we weren’t leaving you behind.” She blushed bright red. “I, uh, didn’t know how you felt about me at that point. I didn’t realize how hurtful a ‘just friends’ invitation would be.”   
  


“It was the Yule Ball all over again,” Harry said. “Only you and Hermione instead of me and Ginny.” 

“I thought it was a date, and you didn’t mean for it to be one.”

“Pretty much.” Hermione looked miserable. “It was unintentional on my part, but I hurt you. Things got worse between us after that, and when I thought Harry had slipped you Felix Felicitis, we kind of imploded.”

“That was the Quidditch game that got Lav’s attention,” Ron said slowly.

“Yes. Suddenly all these girls were fawning over you. Not one of them had ever paid you the slightest bit of attention before then. They didn’t _know_ you--not really. And I’d heard Lavender badmouth your clothes and your family in the past, so to watch her throw herself at you once you were a big Quidditch star was _galling .”_

“Hence the canaries.”

“I’m not proud of that,” Hermione admitted. “But I was feeling too many things at once, and I let my magic get out of control. It was like being a kid again.” 

“Things stayed awkward between you and Hermione for months after that,” Harry said. “But then you got poisoned on your birthday. You scared the hell out of her--out of both of us--and she wouldn’t leave your side. Lavender got irritated that this other girl was fussing over you so much--she thought that was her exclusive right. You two broke up soon afterward.” 

“It was the first time a relationship of yours ended because of me and Harry,” said Hermione. “But it wasn’t the last. It’s hard for some people to understand that if they want to be with you, Harry and I are kind of part of the deal.” 

“A packaged set,” Harry agreed. 

“That,” said Ron, “has been the one consistent thing in all the worlds.” 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Once again Hermione understood that it wasn’t safe for Ron to apparate to a home he didn’t really remember and didn’t know the location. But this time, instead of taking him side-along, she urged him to stay at Grimmauld Place. “There’s plenty of room, and I  _ hate _ your flat.” 

Ron didn’t blame her. He hated that flat too, and he’d only seen it once (to his recollection). 

But the next morning Ron woke up with a plan. He had a full English with Harry and Hermione, who plied him with stories of things he’d forgotten as much as with food. But then he headed to Gringotts. 

It was as he’d hoped. Being an Auror wasn’t going to make him super-rich, but living in his grungy flat had apparently netted him some savings. He  _ could _ afford a nicer, bigger place.

Maybe he could use that fact to help George. 

He had Hermione side-along him to just outside George’s flat. She kissed his cheek as she left him. “Good luck. But be careful, okay? He’s rather tetchy.” 

Ron wasn’t too worried. He’d dealt with tetchy George before.

George let him inside, and Ron winced. It really  _ was _ worse than his. He wouldn’t have thought it possible. Even worse, George was sipping on a bottle of Firewhisky. Not an insignificant amount was missing from the bottle. 

Well, no matter. Ron had made up his mind, so he screwed his courage to the sticking place and plunged ahead. “I was thinking…”

“Always dangerous.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But you know I live in a shithole. I figure maybe it’s time to get something nicer. Maybe bigger too. But I don’t fancy rambling around in a giant place all by myself. I don’t suppose you’d want to go in with me and share something?”

George rolled his eyes. “Not this again.”

Ron frowned. “What?”

“Ron, you do this  _ every _ year. Trying to act like I’d be doing you some favor, helping you get a bigger place, when you know damn well you’d be paying for the whole thing just like you pay for your shithole  _and_ mine now.” He took a hefty swig from the bottle. “Full marks for doing it now though--that’s at least different. Usually you come around with this brilliant plan closer to the time your lease is up.” 

“Well…” Ron thought for a moment. “Look at this way then. You’d  _ still  _ be doing me a favor. If I’m paying for both our shitholes, I might as well just pay for one place that’s maybe actually decent? With plumbing more recent than Bonita St. John’s term as Minister of Magic?” 

“You want a bigger place, you get a bigger place, man. It has nothing to do with me.” 

“It does if I’m still covering your rent here.”

“So stop doing that. I don’t care. Let me be put out on the street. It might actually do us all some good.” 

“You know damn well I’d never let that happen!” 

George sighed. “Yeah. I do know damn well. But sometimes I wish you would. Let me suffer. Maybe then I could stop feeling so  _ guilty  _ all the time.”

“You think being homeless will atone for your sins somehow?”

“Why not? Living in this dump hasn’t done it. And living in  _ your _ dump hasn’t done it for you. Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing.”

Ron stared at the table. George always had known him well. “I shouldn’t have let you lose the shop.” The words came out strangled.

George set his bottle down a little too hard. The “clunk” echoed. “Would you stop it? That wasn’t on you. That was on me.  _ I’m _ the one who couldn’t pull myself together enough.  _ I’m _ the one who let Fred’s memory down. That damn shop was his  _ dream _ , and I’m the one who lost it for us.” 

“You were grieving! You’d just lost your twin! I should’ve done whatever it took to make sure you didn’t lose Wheezes too!” 

George’s voice took on a surprisingly gentle tone. “You were grieving too, Ronnie. I wasn’t the only one who lost Fred. None of us were in any condition to keep the place afloat then. It just...wasn’t meant to be.”

Ron swallowed hard. This next bit was what he’d spent most of the night hammering out in his borrowed room at Grimmauld Place. “Would you...would you like to try again?”

“What? What are you on about?”

He took a deep breath. “Look, I know the physical location is gone. And I won’t lie; I don’t have the means to pay a lease on a spot in Diagon Alley right now. But I was thinking...we could maybe start small, with owl post orders. Build up the customer base again. Maybe...maybe some of our nieces and nephews could take order forms to Hogwarts. If we reinvested most of the early profits back into the business, we could maybe afford a place in Diagon Alley within a couple of years.” 

“You keep saying ‘we.’ You already  _ have _ a job, Ron.”

“I know. I’d mostly be the financial backing to get you started. But if we...if we got a bigger place, you could work on it during the day, and I could help when I was home. I don’t have the imagination you do, and I know I might not be as good at the enchantments or potion brewing, but I can help out some. And I am good at strategy. I think...I think I could be good at developing your business plan.” 

George sat back, looking stunned. “You really want to do this?”

“I really do. I think we could make a go of it now, George, even if we couldn’t back then. Isn’t it worth it to try?” 

Silence hung thick and heavy in the air. Ron waited. He was determined not to push George, to give him time to think it through and decide on his own. Finally he did. 

“Okay.” George shoved the Firewhisky away from him. “Okay. You find us a place and make that business plan. I’ll...I’ll check into St. Mungo’s for a couple of weeks for an intensive with the Mind Healers.”

Relief flooded through Ron. He could do this.  _ They _ could do this. 

*****

“Harry?”   
  


“Yeah?” 

“Why  _ did _ George lose the shop? I mean, I know we were all grieving, but...I can’t imagine us just letting it all go to hell like that without doing  _ something _ _._ ”

They were in the Leaky Cauldron, looking through ads of available flats. Ron kept his eyes focused on the parchments, not sure he wanted to see Harry’s face when he answered.

Harry sighed heavily. “It was just all such a  _ mess _ . The war was finally over, but we’d lost so many people. You knew about me and Hermione already, but you were still pretty broken up about it--you’d been taunted about it by Voldemort himself through that bloody locket after all. Hermione had been tortured, which traumatized all three of us. And neither your mum nor Ginny were feeling particularly forgiving over the fact that I’d fallen for Hermione; I think Molly had nurtured the dream of me marrying into the Weasley family just as much as Gin had. George was almost inconsolable over Fred, and Percy was just as bad, because he felt like it was not only his fault but that it should have been him instead.” He shook his head. 

“That summer was the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced. People that deep in mourning aren’t reasonable. George was falling apart. You were falling apart. Percy was falling apart. Molly and Ginny were falling apart. Looking back on it, I really can’t see any way it could’ve gone any differently. Bill and Fleur tried to run Wheezes for a bit, but frankly customer service was not an area where Fleur excelled. I think that caused more problems than it solved.” 

Ron nodded slowly. That did make a certain amount of sense. Losing Fred was hellish in any reality. But in the two lives Ron had glimpsed so far, he’d had Hermione to help him in one and Padma in the other. Ginny had had Harry in both. They weren’t trying to piece a broken heart back together while also mourning their brother. And so they were a little more able to prop up George. 

“I offered to invest again,” Harry said. “I do love your family. I didn’t want to see George lose Wheezes anymore than anyone else did. George adamantly refused--got right stroppy about it. I hadn’t meant to insult him. But I honestly think he wasn’t  _ ready _ to run a shop on his own then. I think, if the Mind Healers get him off the booze and into a healthier mental state, he could be ready now.” 

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Ron said as he studied another ad. “So I joined the Aurors that fall?” 

“No, we both started the following spring. Kingsley wanted us to have a little recuperation time. I used it to work on getting Grimmauld Place livable. You did some traveling.”

“Traveling? Really?” Ron wished he could remember that. 

“Yeah. You ended up in Japan. You actually brought home a witch from Mahoutokoro School. Masako. She played Quidditch. She and Ginny got on great, but…” Harry trailed off, looking embarrassed. “It was kind of Lavender all over again. She didn’t like how close you were to Hermione.”

“Didn’t understand that packaged set deal?”

Harry laughed. “Not even a little bit.” 

“Bummer.” Since Ron didn’t remember her, he couldn’t be too glum about it now. He marked another possibility on his parchment. 

“It was a kind of a downer, but Hermione didn’t think it would’ve lasted anyway. She said it was a rebound.” Harry shrugged. “But she also said Malfoy was a rebound for Ginny, and look at them.”

Ron made a face. “I’d rather not, thanks.” He ignored Harry’s amused grin.

“Ron?” 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think...do you think George would mind if I invested now? Things have settled, and everyone’s kind of adjusted to the fact that I married Hermione and Ginny married Malfoy. Maybe now it would be okay?”

Ron sat back to think. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll ask him about it. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t want a big lump sum like you did the first time--that I think would still be insulting--but he might accept an amount that was at least similar to what I’m putting up. And that would certainly get us up and running quicker.” 

“Maybe I can invest in inventory, and you can put your money toward marketing,” Harry suggested.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to George. See what he thinks. I just don’t want to rock the boat too much. This is really important to me, Harry. Not just to him.”

  
“I know, mate.” Harry spoke softly. “Believe me, I know.”    
  



	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

“A toast! To the Grand Re-opening of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” Harry raised his glass. 

Everyone followed suit. “Hear, hear!” 

The past three months had been the busiest of Ron’s life. But the first owl post orders had come in today, so it was all worth it. They were off and running now. George looked years younger. 

George had had a bit of a strop about Harry investing but had acquiesced in the end. Percy had helped sort through some of the legalities...and had invested as well. Even Draco had thrown in more than a few galleons. Truth be told, they  _ could _ have opened up in Diagon Alley straight away if they’d chosen to do so, but George hadn’t felt ready for that step yet. But he was settled in the new flat with Ron and working hard on new products. The flat had 3 bedrooms, so they’d turned the third room into an office/work space. 

And the glass he raised to toast held only pumpkin juice. George had successfully stopped living in a bottle of Firewhisky. His eyes were bright and clear. When he spoke, his voice was rough but strong. “I’d like to thank all of you for the part you played in this. I dedicate the new Wheezes to Fred’s memory...and to Ron, who’s a right stubborn git and wouldn’t let up until we made it to this point.” He clapped Ron on the back. “Thanks.” 

Ron nodded, unable to get words past the lump in his throat. 

*****

Ron sat with Hermione in Grimmauld Place, looking through old photos. The one she’d just handed him caught his attention. “That’s…” He paused, trying to remember the name Harry had said. “Masako?” 

“Yes. Harry thought you might end up marrying her.”

“She’s very beautiful.” 

“She is. And a really phenomenal Quidditch player. Ginny loved the pickup games you all would have with her.” Hermione smiled. “I loved hearing about Mahoutokoro School. It was so different to Hogwarts. And her magic was so different. Just fascinating.” 

“I’m sure.” 

Hermione handed him another photo. She’d suggested this activity, hoping it would help Ron remember. But nothing was working. Everything in his memory still felt muddled. He now had three different versions of the Yule Ball in his mind. All three incredibly vivid and  _ real _ . But most of the important events in his life? Nothing but wisps of smoke. 

Finally Hermione pushed the box of photos away. “Tell me again about the start of all this, where you remember being at Muriel’s house.”

Ron obligingly described the hot, stuffy house and finding... _ something _ that he stuck in his pocket. “But it’s never in my pocket. Whenever I think I remember it, I always check. It’s never there.” 

Hermione nodded slowly. “Okay. And the Healers haven’t been able to give you any hints?”

“They say there is evidence of strong magic, but nothing that seems detrimental other than my spotty memory. They wanted to check me into the long-term ward, where Lockhart and the Longbottoms are. I refused. I’m  _ functional _ , even if half my life has seemed to get muddled into some kind of weird stew in my brain.” 

“Are you recovering  _ any  _ memories?”

He shrugged. “Some. Seems to happen mostly when I’m helping George.” 

“Oh, that  _ is _ interesting. Have you had any come back at any other time?”

Ron hadn’t really noticed before, but he sat back to think about it now. “You know, I don’t think I have. Oh, wait--that one Auror mission when I got the commendation and the bonus. When I accepted them, I remembered your speech after I destroyed the locket. All the other memories that have come back have been when I’m working on Wheezes though.”

“Hmm. I’m certain that’s significant. I just wish I knew  _ why .” _

“I don’t know, Hermione. I’m not sure any of this makes any sort of sense.”

“Did you...did you ever get in touch with Padma?” 

Ron nodded glumly. “Yeah. She’s quite happily married to some bloke at her dad’s office. So that much of my memory was correct--it just isn’t me.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. I don’t really know her, I don’t think. I never did. Just another misfiring in my poor messed up head.” 

Hermione kissed his cheek. “We’ll figure it out somehow, I promise.”

“I know you will. I have complete faith in you, Hermione.”

She turned pink. “Well, that’s lovely. Thank you.” 

Ron left for home shortly after that. It wasn’t so bad going home now; the new flat really was so much better. He apparated to the sitting room. As he’d expected, George was hard at work in the spare room. “I hope you brought takeaway,” George called. “I’m famished!” 

“I didn’t, but I can probably scare up something in the kitchen.”

“Anything you cooked  _ would _ be scary. I want  _ real  _ food, Ron.” 

Ron rolled his eyes but agreed to pick up some spicy shrimp curry. He disapparated again. 

When he returned with the food a few minutes later, he settled on the sofa to eat his curry. But as he sat, he felt what appeared to be an odd lump. He frowned. Why would there be there a lump in the sofa? Setting aside his food, he stood up and started digging underneath the cushions.

His hand closed around a small, smooth object. Ron pulled it out and stared. The orb! The silver orb from Aunt Muriel’s! What  _ was _ this thing? Was it responsible for all of his memory problems? 

Maybe Hermione would be able to figure it out. Ron would take it to her. It would at least give her a new angle for her research. Idly he rubbed his thumb over the smooth surface. 

Only part of it wasn’t smooth. Ron’s thumb caught on a notch of some sort. A hole opened up, and Ron looked closer. How strange. That liquid swirling around kind of resembled a Pensieve. He looked more closely…

The room around him dissolved into nothingness. 


	8. Chapter 8

**PART THREE**

Chapter Eight

The world reformed. Ron found himself in yet a different sitting room, on yet a different sofa. “This is getting really old,” he mumbled to himself.

It was a strange room, full of all kinds of random portraits and art pieces and bizarre items that looked potentially magical in nature. Definitely not a Muggle place.

“Hello?” Ron called out hopefully.

“Yes?” Luna Lovegood drifted into the room. 

  
  
Ron felt like banging his head on the back of the sofa. What was  _ happening _ to him?

Luna frowned at him. “Ron, are you all right?” 

“No. No, I don’t actually think I am.”

“Well, what’s the trouble then?” Luna’s voice took on a practical tone. 

“Luna, I don’t know where I am or why I’m here. I can’t remember anything, and every time I start to do so, what I remember is  _ wrong. _ ”

“How very odd,” Luna said. “I don’t see any memini around your head. And I can’t imagine what else would cause such a phenomenon.”

But Ron clutched at the bit of hope. “Memini? They might explain all this?” 

“Well, they do feed on memories, you know. It’s so unpleasant when one attaches to you. I read of a woman who had rather long, thick hair. A meminus nestled in and stayed for weeks--they’re normally quite obvious and easily taken care of. The poor woman lost all of her Christmases.” 

“Memini,” Ron repeated thoughtfully. Could that really be the answer? “Can you...can you check me for them? Please?”

Luna shrugged and stepped closer. She ran her fingers through his hair, almost massaging his scalp (and Ron wouldn’t lie--it felt nice). “No, none here. Definitely not that.” 

Well. Bugger. 

She sat down beside him. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

“I don’t even know anymore what that is! My head’s a jumbled mess. Am I married to Hermione or Padma Patil?”

Luna stared. “No. Ron—“

“Right. Am I single? Married to a Masako? Working for the Aurors? Working in a different business? Working with George? Luna, I don’t know!” 

She blinked rapidly and drew a deep breath. “Definitely not memini. They wouldn’t be able to do this much damage. Um, you work with George. You were an Auror for a while but didn’t actually like it much. And you’re...you’re married to  _ me _ .” 

He was an idiot. He should've realized straight away when he saw her--damned jumbled memory. “Shit, Luna, I’m sorry—“

“It’s all right.” Luna spoke briskly. “”It’s not like you forgot on purpose. Let’s just focus on figuring this out, hmm?” 

“That sounds good. I _ hate _ being like this.” 

“Obviously you can’t tell me what you’ve forgotten, but can you tell me what you remember? What you know?”

“I don’t know  _ anything _ ,” Ron said miserably. “One minute I’m married to Hermione and working with George. Then I’m married to Padma and working with her father. Then I’m not married at all and working with the Aurors.” He stopped as something occurred to him. “Is Harry married to Ginny or Hermione?” 

“Ginny of course. Why would Harry be married to Hermione? They’d be a terrible match. That would never work.”

“You don’t think so? I could always see it.”

“Well, Ron, you always had a bit of a blind spot where those two were concerned.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Hermione doesn’t need someone like Harry, who will just assume she’s right all the time and never argue or challenge her. She needs someone who will love her and support her, but still let her know when she’s wrong.” 

Huh. Ron had never thought of it that way. 

  
He changed the subject. “Harry’s married to Ginny. I’m married to you. Is Hermione married?” 

“Yes. We get together with Hermione and her husband almost as often as we do Harry and Ginny. We’re all still very good friends, Ron.”

Well, that was good. At least something was consistent in his screwed-up world. 

“Who...who’s her husband?”

Luna tilted her head. “Well...I don’t guess that you’d know him really, with your memory being muddled. He was several years ahead of us at Hogwarts, a Hufflepuff, and Hermione didn’t meet him until she was working at the Ministry. But his name is David Faldo. He’s Muggleborn, like Hermione. He works in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. We both like him a lot.” 

“He...didn’t break her heart?”

“No, of course not. They’re quite happy. Why would you ask that?”

Ron shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know. I thought I remembered a relationship Hermione had with someone at the Ministry ending badly.”

Luna thought about that. “Hmm. There was a man who asked her out shortly after you two broke up. I don’t think anything ever came of it though. I can’t imagine it upsetting her too much.”

“We broke up? Hermione and I  _ dated _ _?_ ” 

“Oh, yes. I always assumed you got together on the horcrux hunt--you certainly  _ seemed _ together when we were all at Shell Cottage. And you were together for, oh...a couple of years after the war. I don’t think it was a happy time though. Hermione was finishing Hogwarts for part of it. You were grieving Fred and helping George and training for the Aurors. It was difficult for everyone, really. But you were both convinced that everything would be fine once ‘things settled down a bit;’ you both used that expression an awful lot. ‘Just need things to settle down.’”

“But...things weren’t fine?” 

“No. Once Hermione graduated and started working for the Ministry, I think the two of you actually got worse. You both were working long hours, you both were still recovering from the war, and you started to fight terribly. Not your normal fights--real fights. Both of you said some rather...unforgivably cruel things to each other.” Luna looked sad. “And finally both of you decided that it was time to stop before you destroyed each other completely. You  _ do _ love each other--very much. And you agreed that love was better suited to friendship than romantic partnership. You’re still very good friends. Like I said, we see David and Hermione often--Hermione especially.” 

That was something, anyway. But Ron hated to think of hurting her so much. Figured that he’d get his dream of being with Hermione and still manage to wreck it somehow. “So how did you and I get together?”

A radiant smile lit Luna’s face. “It was the third anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. One of the Ministry’s commemorative events. You and Hermione weren’t dating anymore, but you’d come together as friends. I was there with Neville. We shared a table. We talked. We danced. I’d always had a bit of a crush on you, you know.” (Ron hadn’t known.) “But I fell in love with you that night.” She laughed, and Ron noted what a beautiful laugh she had; how had he never noticed that? “It took longer for you. But I was happy waiting for you to catch up.” 

“Do we...have children?”

“Oh, yes. The eldest is Charlotte Rose. She’s our only ginger. Then Pandora Xenophilia after my parents. Then Archibald Ronald--we call him Archie. He’s our only boy. And finally Morgana Marguerite.” 

Wow. Ron had lived up to the Weasley name apparently. “Can I...see them?” 

Charlotte was a Hogwarts and the other three at a local primary school, but Luna showed him pictures. Ron studied the faces, trying to get his brain to cooperate and bring up a memory, hoping he could feel  _ something _ for his children, but it didn’t work. He was just looking at photos of strangers. He sighed and pushed them away.

“Don’t worry, dear,” Luna said soothingly. “We’ll figure this out.”

Ron was beginning to lose hope that would ever happen.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine 

If one _had_ to suffer from inexplicable memory loss, Ron decided that it was in one’s best interest to suffer it with Luna Lovegood.

For one thing, she took it in stride with her usual aplomb. She showed him around the house and answered all his questions with matter-of-fact frankness. When the younger three children returned from school, Luna deftly kept them from realizing anything was amiss with their father. 

They were great kids, loud and boisterous like Weasleys but quirky like Luna. Ron found them delightful. He wished he could see Charlotte as well. 

He played wizard chess with Pandora after supper. Apparently they did this often, a fact which pleased Ron enormously. She was learning well. 

Later that night, Luna stayed up with Ron, continuing to tell him story after story of events he didn’t recall--or at least didn’t recall correctly. Ron found himself enjoying her soft, dreamy lilt as she spoke. It was very soothing. 

Much later, when neither of them could prop their eyelids open any longer, she led him up to bed. As they settled in to sleep, Luna ran her fingers through Ron’s hair again, gently kneading his scalp. He drifted off to sleep thinking how pleasant it felt. 

She let him have a lie-in the next day. And by the time he stumbled blearily into the kitchen, she’d sent the children off to the Burrow for the day, much to Molly’s delight. “And I’ve invited Harry and Hermione over. We’ll solve this together, Ron.”

A wave of gratitude washed over him. “Thanks, Luna.” 

Harry and Hermione arrived shortly after lunch, and Ron went through the whole thing again. Luna sat next to him, holding his hand. It helped, somehow. 

“Let me make sure I understand,” Hermione said slowly. “You found something at your great-aunt’s house, and now you can’t remember things properly?”

“Well, I _thought_ that’s what happened. But Luna says Aunt Muriel is still alive and well and disagreeable as ever.” Ron shrugged. “And I thought I put...whatever it was in my pocket. It’s never there.” 

“But that’s when your memory got...muddled?” Harry asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“So you _could_ have found something somewhere else that’s mucking around with your memory?” Harry said. 

“Er, yeah, I guess so.” 

“That makes sense,” Hermione said. “You _did_ find something, and whatever the object was, it started affecting your memory--beginning with the very moment you found it.” 

It did make sense. Ron wondered why he hadn’t thought of that. 

“And it sounds like the things you’re getting confused about revolve around whom you’ve married and what career you have?” Hermione continued. 

He’d not noticed that common thread before, but she was right again. “Um, yeah.” 

Luna spoke up. “Last night you said you’d been married to Hermione and to Padma, and you’d been single. You’ve worked in business with Padma’s father, worked as an Auror, and worked with George at Wheezes. Correct?”

“Yeah. It all gets jumbled in my head. I can’t figure out what’s real and what isn’t.”

“Ron,” Luna said, her voice sounding even gentler than normal. “I don’t think your memory’s the problem.”

“Huh? How do you figure? Sure feels like it's a problem.” 

“Isn’t it obvious? You must be experiencing alternate realities.” 

“Alternate _realities_?” Hermione almost shrieked. “Luna, those are just theoretical!” 

“Well, the _theory_ explains everything Ron has been through, does it not?” 

“It does.” Harry leaned forward. “In a couple Muggle sci-fi books I’ve read alternate realities splinter off by the different choices we make. Ron, didn’t you say you had about three different versions of the Yule Ball in your head?” 

“Um, yeah. Two of those I went with Padma, and Hermione went with Viktor Krum. I was an angry, jealous arse both times, at least to start with. But in one, when Padma asked me to dance, I said no and sulked all night. Hermione and I ended up in a fight. In the other, I said yes. We discovered we liked each other a lot. Hermione came over with Krum later, and we all had a great time. Padma and I were always together after that. In the other one, uh, it took us awhile, but Hermione and I ended up together.”

“And the third Yule Ball?” Harry asked. 

“I went with Hermione, and you went with Ginny. I fell in love with Hermione, but she fell in love with you and you with her. The two of you ended up married, and I stayed single.” Ron shrugged. “It always seemed logical to me that the two heroes of the war would fall for each other.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I still can’t see it. It’s too weird. No offense, Hermione. You know I love you. Just...not like that.”

“None taken,” Hermione said. “I feel exactly the same.” 

“Well, in that...world, or whatever, you did love her like that. You loved Ginny like a sister.” 

Harry made a face. “Okay, I can’t imagine what different choices would lead to that. But the other two? Two different realities based on two different choices you made--to dance with Padma or not to dance with Padma.”

“But, Harry,” Hermione protested, “regardless of whether alternate realities actually exist, people can’t just go bouncing between them!” 

Luna’s voice still held that gentle tone. “They could if a magical object enabled them to. We can’t see another person’s memories--unless we use a Pensieve. Why should this be any different?”

That brought Ron up short. “A Pensieve! Something about what I found reminded me of a Pensieve.” 

“Well, that gives us something to work with when we start looking for answers,” Luna said briskly. “We find a magical object that resembles a Pensieve but instead of memories, it allows one to experience alternate realities. I’ll ask Father about it.” 

“And I’ll check the library,” Hermione said. “As well as ask around at work.” 

“I wonder if I could get permission to get into the Department of Mysteries,” Harry said. “Or at least talk to someone who knows what all might be in there.” 

Hermione leaned forward to place a hand on Ron’s arm. “That gives us a starting point. We’ll figure this out, I promise.” 

“I don’t doubt that.” And Ron felt a stirring of hope that this time, they actually would. 

****

Ron fell into a rhythm of working with George at the shop easily. This was familiar and safe. This he knew. The shop wasn’t exactly the same as he remembered from his married-to-Hermione world, but it was close enough.

And he loved evenings at home with Luna and their children. He delighted in getting to know them all, for what felt like the first time to him.

He wished he could remember falling in love with Luna, but it was at least easy to feel warmly affectionate toward her now. She added laughter and fun to their time together and took his garbled memories and confused uncertainties in stride. Ron hated how he’d inadvertently hurt Padma in the earlier reality, and he certainly understood her sadness, but Luna was really much easier to have by your side in this situation. Idly Ron wondered how Hermione had taken it. He couldn’t remember her reaction to his “memory loss” in that reality. 

Could it...could it be the “real” one? That thought brought Ron up short.

Not only because his being with Hermione would be every dream he ever had come true. Not only because _marriage_ with Hermione was almost more good fortune than he could even comprehend. But also because he didn’t understand what the ramifications would be for _this_ world. If he found his way back to Hermione, what would happen to Luna and to their children? 

Ron could not just abandon them. 

Maybe he ought to stop looking for a solution...just accept things as they were and settle here. 

But...had he already abandoned Padma and Panju when he left that reality? Had he abandoned Hermione and Rose and Hugo? Neither of those options were any better--quite the opposite, in fact. It had been one thing when he thought it was his memory at fault. But if he was actually _moving_ from one world to another...He’d never read the Muggle books Harry had mentioned. How did all this even work? How could he make sure no one was left alone or uncared for? He couldn’t be in three places at once! 

He really needed to know more about this object, and what it meant for everyone he’d grown to care about.

***

“I did some checking,” George said a few days later. 

Ron looked up. He’d told George about the research they were doing into magical items and alternate realities. He knew he’d never confided in anyone other than Harry, Hermione, and his spouse in any of the other realities. He’d decided to change that this time around. George had contacts and sources none of the rest of them did. Maybe that would help. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I really didn’t think I was going to get anywhere. But the last supplier I asked thought he recognized what you described.” 

“Impressive, since I can’t remember enough about it to _describe_ anything.” 

“Apparently that’s part of how it works. It’s trying to immerse you fully in whatever reality it’s showing you and get you to accept it. So it makes your memories of the real world and of any previous realities you’ve explored go kind of fuzzy. And it takes your memory of the thing itself completely. But it’s called a prospeculor.” 

“Prospeculor,” Ron repeated. Finally, a name. Something concrete to give Hermione direction for her research. Something concrete for Harry to search for in the Department of Mysteries. Something concrete for Luna to ask her father’s friends and colleagues. 

And with a name, Ron could do his _own_ research and figure out a way to stop his bouncing through realities. He could figure out which one was actually the _right_ one. And maybe, just maybe, discover a way not to let anyone down in the process. 

He really, really hoped he could manage that last one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you might've guessed, we're in the home stretch. Not to the end yet--they still have to find the prospeculor and figure out how it works, and Ron has to get back to his real life--but we're definitely winding down. :)


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

As it turned out, finding information on an obscure magical object wasn’t all that easy even when you had a name to work with. Apparently prospeculors were rare, very few people had ever heard of them, and even fewer had ever written about them. Even Hermione’s mad research skills weren’t yielding anything significant. 

It was enough to drive one mental. 

In desperation, Ron owled Charlotte at Hogwarts, asking her to check the Room of Requirement.

Charlotte did so, as well as getting Neville’s permission to search the restricted section of the library. She copied down what little bit she found and owled it back. 

_ Dear Daddy, _

_   
_ _   
_ __ I hope this helps! I’m sorry that I couldn’t find much, but here’s what I did learn: 

_ A prospeculor is a small silver ball in appearance. There is a tiny notch on its surface. When that notch is touched, it opens the ball up and reveals the liquid inside. This liquid is what shows alternate realities to the user--ways that life might have turned out if one makes different choices, or if a particular situation goes differently. But in order to help the user fully engage with this alternate world, it clouds the user’s memory of the real world and of the prospeculor itself.  _

_ Prospeculors fell out of favor because users became obsessed with exploring all the different lives it was possible for them to live. They stopped participating in the real life they already had.  _

_ I couldn’t find anything on how to figure out what the real world is or how to get back to it--or on what happens to the people in the worlds you leave behind. (I  _ knew _ you’d be worried about that, but there was nothing mentioned about it at all.)  _

_ Sorry again--I know this doesn’t help a lot.  _

_ I love you. _

_ Charlotte _

“She’s very perceptive,” Ron said, staring at the letter. 

“Of course she is,” said Hermione, who had come for tea and to discuss the situation. “She’s like her mother.”

“Luna  _ is _ amazing. She’s been a rock through all this.” 

“She loves you very much.” 

“Hermione?” Ron was hesitant to ask his next question. “What...what happened with us? I don’t remember…”

Her face softened. “No, you wouldn’t, would you? Does it really matter now?” 

“Not really. I just want to know. I don’t like all the holes in my memory. That prospeculor really does its job well.”

“Well, all right then.” She stared into her tea. “I’m not even sure now. We were so happy at first--thrilled that we had survived the war, thrilled that we were finally on the same page with each other. I was excited to have a normal year at Hogwarts, and you were looking forward to Auror training.” She shook her head. “But I was also trying to rebuild a relationship with my parents. You were grieving Fred and trying to help your family, especially George. It was a lot of stress, you know?” 

“I...remember that part,” Ron said slowly. “I think--I think that’s the same as the world I was in where we were still married and had children. What changed?” 

Hermione shrugged. “We didn’t cope with the stress all that well. I don’t think we knew  _ how _ _._ We were just barely adults, and it’s not like either of us had  _ normal _ childhoods, hanging around Harry. Oh, Ron. We were just awful to each other.” She laughed softly, even as she looked teary-eyed. “For a while, we survived the bad times by  _ really _ enjoying making up. But eventually...well, that isn’t enough, is it? Eventually, you have to acknowledge that it just isn’t working and let each other move on. Oh, it just about killed us to admit we weren’t working out. But we weren’t. And I think it all turned out all right in the end. We’re still best friends, and we have good marriages to good people.” 

Ron nodded. “No argument there. But I still can’t...I remember fighting, Hermione. I remember it getting really ugly. I just don’t...I don’t remember giving up.”

“We didn’t  _ give up _ !” Hermione’s voice took on a shrill tone. “It wasn’t like that! We let each other go! We knew we both deserved better.” 

Well. That did make a certain sense. Ron had always known that Hermione deserved better. He sat back, accepting it. This must be the right reality. So all he needed to do was find the prospeculor and make sure it didn’t take him away from his real life again. 

***

It was Luna who found the prospeculor. Apparently it had rolled under the sofa. 

She noted the notch but warned Ron not to touch it. “It will send you off to another reality. And I don’t know how to get you back.” 

“I don’t want to keep bouncing anyway,” Ron said. “I’m content here. I just want to make sure I’m not making things rough on anyone in the others. I mean, do those worlds just cease to exist when I leave? Or are they waiting on me to come back? Am I in a coma or something there? I don’t know how it all works.” 

Luna looked at him sadly. “Oh, Ron. I don’t know either. I’m afraid we might not ever know.”

Ron didn’t much like that answer. But he’d run out of ideas on places to look for more info. Even Hermione wasn’t sure where to go next. What kind of problem could stump Hermione? 

“I think,” Luna said slowly,” we should visit your great-aunt.”

“Muriel? Whatever for?”

“Maybe she really did have one of these. Maybe she’ll know about it. It can’t possibly hurt to ask, could it?”

“I dunno, knowing Aunt Muriel it could,” Ron muttered. He had no desire to spend time with his aunt, and even less desire to subject Luna to the old bat. He could almost hear what Muriel would say about his wife--what she probably already had said in the past. But in the end he agreed. It really was the only option left to try. 

“I’ll wear my best dress,” Luna said. “It’s new. I know it bothers you when your aunt doesn’t like my appearance.” 

Ron didn’t even want to know what Muriel would say about whatever Luna considered her best dress. He just hoped he could keep from flattening his aunt. 

At least not until they’d gotten the information they needed from her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, 2 chapters because it's Friday. Next week will be the destruction of the prospeculor and the return to the real world...and the ramifications that carry over to it from Ron's journey.

Chapter Eleven

They apparated to just outside Muriel’s house. “It’s not too late to change your mind,” Ron said to Luna.

She looked exasperated. “Don’t be silly, Ron. Who else is there to ask?”

Ron wished there was  _ anyone _ else he could ask. He’d even take Snape right now. Maybe.

But he glanced at the proscpeculor in Luna’s hand and drew a deep breath. He could do this. He  _ would _ do this. For his family. For Harry. For Hermione. 

For himself.

Muriel was not happy to see them.

“Why are you here bothering me? No one comes to see me unless they want something. So what do you want?” She stared at Luna. “And why in Merlin’s name are you dressed like that?”

“I wore it for you,” Luna said serenely. 

For whatever reason, Muriel had no response to that. 

She led them into the sitting room, muttering under her breath about the pathetic marriages all her relatives had made and how she was so put upon to be related to such weak-ankled people. As they settled in stiff-backed chairs, Luna held up the prospeculor. “Do you know what this is, Auntie Muriel?”

Auntie. Ron almost choked. 

Muriel’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you get that?”

“We aren’t sure. That’s why we’re here. Do you recognize it?” 

“You know darn well I do. That’s mine!” 

“Is it?” Luna still sounded utterly serene. “How fascinating. Can you tell us about it?” 

“I’m not telling you anything. Give me back my property!” 

“How do you know it’s yours?” Ron asked. “Do they have any distinguishing marks? From what we’ve read, they all look pretty much the same.”

Muriel looked like she’d just bitten a very sour lemon. “I know it’s mine because there is no way  _ you _ were able to afford one. Not working at that ridiculous shop of yours.”

“The shop is actually quite successful,” Luna said. “People like it.” 

The old woman snorted. “‘People’ have no taste. Now give that back to me.” 

“How do you know it’s yours?” Ron repeated. “I haven’t been here in years. When would I  _ possibly _ have gotten it from here?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t care. I want it back!” 

Ron tossed it to her. “Here. Now, answer my questions, and we’ll leave you in peace. Where does that thing come from?”

“The prospeculor itself was invented by Algar Prewitt. Only a handful were ever made. Each one required incredibly complex magic to work properly, and they ended up falling out of favor relatively quickly when people using them became obsessed. That particular one has been passed down through the family for generations. No one uses it; it’s just an heirloom of sorts. A testament to Algar’s greatness.” 

“So it lets you explore alternate realities--see how making different choices causes things to turn out differently. What happens to a reality once you leave it to go to another?” 

Muriel rolled her eyes. “Nothing  _ happens _ , you imbecile! It doesn’t  _ really _ exist; it’s all in your head.” 

Ron frowned. “So what happens to-to  _ you _ when you start using it? I mean, somewhere you have a physical body. What happens to it?” 

“Well, that’s part of what caused the problem. The body is somewhat comatose. People sometimes lost  _ years _ of their lives, living out some alternate reality in their head that they liked better than the real world.”

“But the prospeculor works by making you forget about it and by making all your memories of other realities fuzzy. So you may not even know you’re living in a false one. How do you find the real one? How do you get back to your body?” 

“There is one way,” Muriel said, then fell silent.

Ron tried to be patient, he really did, but finally he pressed her. “Okay? What is it?” 

Muriel pocketed prospeculor. “No. I’m not telling you.” 

“Auntie Muriel.” Luna knelt before the old woman. “Please tell us. We came to you because we need your help. We’re your family, even if you don’t like us very much. Please help us.”

Astonishingly, Muriel’s face softened. She stared at Luna for a long moment then sighed. “Oh,  _ fine _ .” She lifted her gaze to Ron. “I assume you’re here because you’ve used it?” 

“Not intentionally--I didn’t know what it was or what was happening at first--but yeah.” 

“Ah. So you’ve visited several realities in your ignorance.”

“Yeah. Each time some memories would start coming back after a while...things would start making sense. About the time everything was normal, I’d find the damn thing again and be off somewhere else.”

“Language, Ron,” Luna admonished. 

“Sorry.” 

“You return to the right reality, all memories intact, by destroying the prospeculor. But I’ll tell you right now, I’m not letting you do that. It’s mine, it's been in the family for generations, and you will  _ not _ destroy it.” Muriel’s expression was fierce.

“So what do you expect me to do?”

“I don’t care. Do what you want. But leave my property alone.” 

“Where do you normally keep your prospeculor?” Luna asked. “Let’s look there. See if it’s still there--that would mean this one isn’t actually yours.”

“I’m telling you, he didn’t get one anywhere else but here!”

“Then it doesn’t hurt to look, does it?” Ron said. “You can even rub it in that you were right all along.” 

Muriel huffed but stood, muttering under her breath all the while. And in a spare room, on a dusty bookshelf, sat a silver prospeculor identical to the one in her hand. She stared in shock. “What--how--”

“Now,” Ron said, holding out his hand, “I’ll thank you to return  _ my  _ property.” 

Wordlessly she gave him the prospeculor, still looking stunned. 

“Thank you. One last thing, and I promise we’ll go. How do we destroy this bloody thing?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prospeculor is destroyed, and Ron returns to his real life.

**PART FOUR**

Chapter Twelve 

It was easier to destroy a prospeculor than a horcrux, but not by much. 

Ron and Luna had put the kids to bed and were now seated at their kitchen table with Harry and Hermione. The little silver prospeculor lay on the table in front of them. They had Muriel’s instructions, and they had their wands, but still they hesitated.

“If this works, everything goes back how it should, right? Whatever that is,” Hermione said. It was not the first time she’d said it.

“Right.” It was also not the first time Ron had agreed.

No one moved. 

Finally Harry sighed deeply. “Okay. We all like our lives. It’s all worked out well for us. And if any of this is meant to be, we’ll still be here after we do this.” 

Ron put words to his real fear. “Harry, what--what if my real life is a disaster? What if that’s why I started using this thing in the first place? Maybe I’m a gigantic failure. Maybe I’m pathetic and alone. Or even beyond that--maybe Voldemort won, and everything’s screwed up for everybody. I mean, I have a good life here. We _all_ have a good life here. Maybe--maybe this is better.” 

“I don’t believe you could be a failure, or pathetic,” Hermione said quietly. “It just isn’t possible. And I _know_ we’d never let you be alone.” 

“And I’m dead certain Tom didn’t win,” Harry said. 

“Okay, then.” Ron didn’t share their certainty, so he allowed himself a brief moment to hope for a life worth returning to before he took a deep breath and picked up his wand. “I guess let’s do this. I hope to hell to see all of you still here with me when this is over.”

***

Ron returned to himself slowly.

First he became aware of a low murmur of voices. No distinguishable words, but definitely people talking. Concerned-sounding people. 

Then he realized he was on a bed of some sort. Not a particularly comfortable one. 

And the lights were too bright, and the room was too hot. 

Some of the words finally penetrated his brain. “You’re sure it isn’t denidrens? You checked?”

“Yes, Luna, we checked.” Hermione sounded weary. “Trust me, after this long I had them check _everything.”_

“Well, all right then.” Luna’s tone was dubious. 

Ron pried his eyelids open. Where the hell was he, anyway? 

“Ron! You’re awake!” Hermione flew to his bedside. 

“What happened? Where am I?” 

“You’re at St. Mungo’s.” Harry’s voice. “You’ve been here for almost five months.” 

Five _months_? Ron gaped in horror. 

“As for what happened,” Hermione said, “no one really has a good answer for that. I was working late in the office one night, and when I finished I found you collapsed on the sitting room floor. You scared me to death!” 

Working late in the office… “That was _real_?” 

Three faces stared at him. “Did you...dream while you were in the coma?” Hermione asked. 

Ron rubbed his forehead. “Apparently. I’m really confused right now.” 

“Nothing unusual there,” Harry said, his tone teasing. 

“I’ll get the Healer.” Hermione darted to the door. Luna drifted forward to take the spot Hermione had just vacated.

“I’m really glad it wasn’t denidrens,” she said. 

Ron smiled at her. His memories were still a tangled-up jumble, but the people he’d hoped would be there when he woke up were with him. He was content. Everything else could wait.

****

The Healers kept Ron in hospital for several days after he emerged from the coma. But finally, he was allowed to go home.

The home he shared with Hermione. How about that. 

He checked all around the sofa. No prospeculor. 

Had it all been some sort of bizarre dream? 

Ron didn’t think so. Part of him wanted to go to Aunt Muriel’s house, to see if it was there. But in the months he’d lain comatose, his mum had finished the job of sorting through stuff. She’d distributed heirlooms among the family and donated or vanished the rest. Ron had asked his parents and all his siblings. No one had gotten the prospeculor.

Molly did remember it though. “Oh, yes, Muriel said it was an invention of some ancestor way back--Angus, maybe?”

“Algar,” Ron said. “His name was Algar.” 

“She was very proud of it,” Molly said. “Wouldn’t let anyone near it. It used to be displayed on a shelf. But I went through that shelf. It wasn’t there.” 

“No, it was in a corner. Maybe it fell,” Ron said. 

“Oh, you found it? Well, good. Probably important to keep something like that.” 

“I didn’t keep it, Mum. It’s gone now.”

And Ron found himself telling his family the whole story of his months in that coma. He still remembered the lives he’d experienced with utmost clarity. But somehow saying out loud, “I was married to Padma Patil,” “I was married to Luna Lovegood,” “You were married to Harry, Hermione, and Ginny was married to Malfoy,” sounded mental even to his own ears. It had all made perfect sense when he was there, but none it seemed remotely reasonable now. 

Certainly they were all staring at him in varying degrees of shock. 

“Ron,” Ginny finally said, “that sounds like the most screwed up dream ever.” 

“I know. But the prospeculor is gone. Mum remembers it. We destroyed it.”

“All that happened inside your _head_?” Hermioine sounded flabbergasted. 

But Harry met his eyes and smiled, a strange, enigmatic smile. “Of course it happened inside his head. But why on earth should that mean it’s not real?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Ron is back where he belongs. 
> 
> The next chapter will be him applying some of what he learned in his journey through AU land.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen 

To satisfy his own curiosity, Ron looked up Padma Patil. As he’d figured, she was married to a man from her dad’s company. And although Ron was absolutely certain he’d never known her father’s name before, he discovered that Mr. Patil’s given name was indeed Rahul. 

Ron read up on the business. It wasn’t quite as successful as he remembered, which gave him pause. He recalled Harry’s words from that first hospital bed: _“Turns out your genius at strategy isn’t just reserved for chess. You excel at business strategy as well.”_

Had the Patil business been so much more successful because of _him_ _?_ Had he really contributed that much?

He thought of the world where Harry had married Hermione. George had lost Wheezes...until Ron had convinced him to try again. Here, Wheezes was an extraordinary success, with a bustling location in Diagon Alley and another in Hogsmeade, rivaling Zonko’s. 

He sat in the shop the next day, lost in thought. George was growing frustrated with his lack of focus, but Ron couldn’t help it. After George had snapped at him for the third time, Ron decided to voice what he was thinking. “George? Am I good at business strategy?”

For a long moment, George just stared at him. Finally he said, “Um, _yeah_. That’s kind of what we’ve been doing all these years. We make money because we’re _good_ at _business._ ”

“And I’ve...contributed to our success?”

“What the hell is _wrong_ with you? Did that coma do some kind of permanent damage? Yes, you’ve contributed. I’m sorry I haven’t fawned over you enough for your liking, but yes..” His irritation faded, and he turned serious, almost somber, his expression a bit vulnerable. “Actually...don’t ever make me repeat this--I’ll punch you in the face--but...I don’t think I could’ve done it without you. Not...not after Fred…”

The universe didn’t exist where Ron would make him finish that sentence. “Do you think...I might be successful in other business ventures?”

George blinked. “What, you’re _leaving_?” 

“No. No! Of course not. I just...I wondered if I could do some...consulting, maybe. On the side.”

“Oh. Okay, then. Yeah. Yeah, I think you could be good at that.”

Ron eyed the information he’d copied down about Rahul Patil. It was a good place to start. 

*****

Over the next several months, Ron’s memories of the alternate worlds he’d experienced began to fade. 

But the changes he made to his real life as a result of them stuck.

He started a highly successful part-time career as a strategic marketing consultant. Rahul Patil was thrilled with Ron’s work, and the word had spread quickly. Ron actually had more applicants than he could handle and limited himself only to projects that sounded interesting or challenging. 

He did some advisory work with the Aurors on long-range strategic planning as well. Harry had shamelessly used his position to help orchestrate that one. But no one complained, because the results spoke for themselves.

Luna became one of his dearest friends. Not as close as Harry and Hermione, obviously (if Ron had learned anything in those alternate realities, it was that no one would ever be who Harry and Hermione were to him, nor did he want them to be). Still, he’d realized now how much he enjoyed her company and appreciated her perspective. She was funny and kind and in her own way, as brilliant as Hermione. Her husband Rolf was a pretty decent bloke as well. Ron liked him a lot. 

He began a new friendship with Padma and her husband John. He started by apologizing for his behavior at the Yule Ball, something he’d never had the nerve to do before. Padma looked startled, then laughed. “I haven’t thought of that in years! But yes, It was infuriating at the time. Thank you, Ron. Apology accepted.” 

John appreciated being able to discuss business with Ron. He appreciated Ron's continued insights.

Percy started helping at Wheezes part-time. George had been flummoxed when Ron first mentioned the idea. “You know, we should ask Percy if he wants to help out here sometimes.”

“ _Percy_ _?_ Our brother Percy? Ministry legal department Percy? _That_ Percy?”

“Yes.”

“Assuming he wanted to, how would he even find time to work here? He’s already got a full-time job, you know!”

“I know. But he could work around that if he wanted. And even if he doesn’t...I think he’d like to be asked.”

Percy, as it turned out, was _overjoyed_ to be asked. He found a few spare hours in his schedule quite readily. Which in turn had helped Ron get his consulting businesses off the ground more quickly. And he enjoyed building a better relationship with Percy and watching George do the same. 

It was like bringing all the best bits of those alternate realities into the real world...and the real world had been pretty great already. Ron still felt like pinching himself that he was married to Hermione and that Rose and Hugo were really his. 

“Ron?” Hermione said one evening as they relaxed in the sitting room. (Ron had developed a whole new appreciation for this particular room.)

  
“Yeah?” 

“I’m...not really quite sure how to say this properly. I really don’t want to be misunderstood. I know I’m not good at...at complimenting you or telling you when you’ve done well. But...I’m awfully proud of you. And I don’t want you to take that to mean that I wasn’t proud of you before. I was! You were a brilliant Auror, and you could’ve gone just as far with them as Harry has if you’d chosen to do so. But you didn’t _want_ to do that. I know you’ve seen that as a personal failing sometimes. It isn’t! Preferring business over the Aurors isn’t a bad thing. It’s just a different thing. And you’re...really good at business, Ron--good at marketing strategy. Wheezes is a success partly because of you. And your new consulting career is a success _entirely_ because of you. And I’m just so incredibly proud of all of it.”

“Thanks.” Ron’s voice was gruff. “If you’d said any of that a few months back, I’d never have believed it. I _did_ feel like switching to Wheezes was kind of a...I don’t know, a letdown for you. My not-so-glamorous career as a shop boy. You and Harry doing these great, amazing things just like you always have, and me just bumbling along, not doing much, like I always have. But I _am_ good at this. I didn’t even realize it. But I am.” 

“I need you to know something else though,” Hermione said softly. “I’m thrilled for you and for your success. I’m even more thrilled that you’re now aware of your own talents. But Ron...you don’t have to _be_ anything other than Ronald Weasley for me to love you or to be proud that you’re my husband. I love you just because you’re you. I couldn’t ask for anyone better. Rose and Hugo couldn’t ask for anyone better. I love _you_.” She kissed him, briefly, before continuing.

“Your experience with the prospeculor made me think of how very lucky we are things worked out with us. It so easily could’ve gone a different way. We could’ve ended up with other people entirely, and be utterly content with that because we didn’t even know what we were missing. And I’m just...grateful that it did work out and we are here together. I wouldn’t want any other life. I just want you.” 

Ron thought briefly of the other worlds. While immersed in them, he’d been overwhelmed at the idea of Padma and Luna loving him as much as they did. Now? He liked, respected, and admired them a lot. They were incredible women. 

But Hermione...Hermione, who’d always been his dream girl...Hermione, the “brightest witch of her age,” had somehow seen something worthwhile in him, long before he’d ever seen it himself. _She_ loved _him._ He’d known that before, but now it settled within him, deep down inside. Hermione Granger-Weasley loved _him_.

How astonishing that this was the real world after all. How mind-boggling that this was his life. 

He pulled Hermione closer, tangling his hands in the bushy hair he loved. “I love you, Hermione. I’m glad this is the real world too. If I could’ve picked, I’d pick you.” He kissed her, a slower, more leisurely kiss. 

Later, much later, as they lay entwined together in bed, Ron asked, “Hermione? Have you ever thought about teaching?” 

END 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap. I hope the ending has satisfied everyone. I made some changes based on some feedback from FFN, so I hope that has clarified some things. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos or comments. I appreciate you so much. You have made posting my first Harry Potter story a pleasant experience, and I am most grateful. 
> 
> P.S. I don't know that Hermione actually would like teaching. Ron is mostly remembering here how relaxed and happy Professor Hermione was in the Padma AU. Ending with Ron asking the question leaves it up to the reader what Hermione's answer would be. :) (I don't think teaching would be a "waste" though--McGonagall is brilliant, Dumbledore was brilliant; they were not "wasted" investing in the next generation of wizards and witches.)


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